It has been said that an authentic God-seeker's life-dates from the moment he is initiated in Yoga, that is, when his soul is born spiritually. As I believe this, I will refrain from writing Indira Devi's biography by way ot preface even though she is the central figure in The Flute Calls Still. I have done my humble best to tell here how His Flute called her and, how again, after answering its call, she became a flute in His hands, as His Holiness Sri Mahanamavrata has put it so aptly. Still, many who have appealed to me to write about her life in the past are likely to be disappointed.

I can only console them by stressing that I have portrayed, through others' letters and mine, her spiritual evolution and stature in the second part of the volume entitled, Our Mandir.

In its pages, however, I have tried to keep myself in the background, because I want all that I have penned or edited to be taken, by and large, as a history of and tribute to her rapid blossoming in the light of the spirit-a blossoming as incredible as it is indubitable-by which I wish to underline her astonishing Aspiration (referred to by Ruth St. Dennis, the famous dancer) which outpetalled with such breathtaking swiftness since her spiritual birth in 1949.

Here, however, I must pause to submit that although superficially, it may, indeed, look as if I, as her elected Guru, was the worker of this miracle, I myself, honest to God, have never claimed any credit for whatever she has achieved under my aegis. In point of fact, after her coming to me I have wondered, often enough, whether our roles had not been reversed by Dame Destiny: that is to say, whether she had not come to me more to teach than to learn.

Of course she always resented such misgivings on my part, claiming with verve and vivacity that her nonpareil Guru had been duly appointed by his Nominator on high to take her in toe and not the other way about. Her contention may be valid from her point of view. I can but state mine as equally valid from my own : that is, I can only concede that something came down through me-call it light or strength or inspiration-which she needed in order to realise her Yogic potentialities.

Those who know have told me that this is what is called Gurushakti-or, more explicitly-a mystic Force which is impersonal and divine and yet acts through the Guru's human medium to meet the disciple's psychic needs. Here I may add that I concede this because I have seen, any number of times, an anonymous but a throbbingly real Force using me as a counsellor to wean her once and for all from her cherished world of make-believe, or-shall I say-as a Kindly Light to lead her on as my fellow-pilgrim to the Goal. But there I must cry halt because do what I would, I could never quite grasp how the Force functioned through me or how the Light guided her home in uncharted waters. All that I was sure of was that it was, everytime, a beneficent power of the Lord's Grace which persistently made use of us both for a divine purpose, ordaining irrevocably that we work together in harmony as His human instruments. That is why, I take it, Indira had to come to me.

But beyond that I have no bedrock certitude to go by, and so must insist on disclaiming any personal credit for having helped her on to her flowering fulfilment. I have taken this stand for another powerful reason: her lightning-swift spiritual evolution has recalled to my mind over and over again, Kathopanishad's revelatory dictum.

Contents

Sri Dilip Kumar Roy A Homage DedicationA Few Words When day is doneForewordPrefaceTributesTe Hour before the Dawn Indira Devi’s Letters